Chosen- Team Crafted
by 12 Gardens
Summary: When the troubled, Minecraft addicted girl wins a contest that gains her access to LA and the chance to hang out with her favorite people in the whole world- Team Crafted- she learns that maybe, just maybe, there is more to life than video games. Original Character
1. I (Prologue)

Chosen

At one o'clock AM, the apartment is completely dark, like a void. You wouldn't even be able to see a vague outline of the few pieces of furniture, if you were brave enough to stand there alone. All light and goodness seems to be consumed by eternal darkness and coldness coming from some evil force deep within its walls.

Then again, it's always like that here.

All is dark, except for a single blue light in the tiny bedroom in the way back of the apartment. The small square of light that seems to light the path for you back to your humanity. Dark thoughts and hopelessness seem to melt away as you are guided back to your smile and laughter with the help of seven hilarious guys, being totally lovable idiots on camera, just for their fans.

It is safe that say that your smile has never seen the light of day, because truly, it hasn't. Still living with your alcoholic mother at the age of eighteen is definitely not something to smile about. Nor is not being able to pay for college and having to work as a clerk in the local bookstore to make ends meet for the two of you. It has, however, welcomed the bluish illumination of the cheap laptop screen for countless nights. Watching the members of Team Crafted dominate game after game and crack joke after joke is what you reserve your smile for.

The seven YouTubers are probably, sadly enough, the main source of happiness in your life. Though you wish that you wouldn't pick favorites, you can never help but feel your heart throb against your ribcage when you look into TheBajanCanadian's soft brown eyes through the laptop screen. It's embarrassing, and you'd never admit it aloud, but you're almost positive that you're in love with Mitch.

You discovered Minecraft and Team Crafted when you had been babysitting a ten-year-old boy for some extra cash. He had spent most of the time watching videos on the family's computer (even though he wasn't supposed to, but you had let it slide). When you had finally asked him what it was that he was so interested in, he had eagerly replied, "Minecraft!" And so, each time from then on you babysat the boy, the two of you would play Minecraft and watch Team Crafted videos to no end. Even when the boy became too old for a babysitter, you started working extra hours to earn money to buy your own laptop and purchase Minecraft on it.

So that was your happy life. You hid your laptop during the day; else your drunken mother would find it and probably destroy it somehow. While she wasted away and your laptop remained safely hidden, you worked eight-hour shifts at the bookstore. It was the quickest job you could find, and they seemed to like you there, so you stayed. At night, though, while you couldn't sleep over your mother's variously noisy activities, you stayed under the covers and played and watched to your heart's content.

You suppose it could be worse.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Yay! I post! :D So, I'm still getting used to the format of this website, but it'll all come together with time. Anyway, I can't believe this is happening, but I am actually posting this Team Crafted, multi-chapter 'fic. Again, slightly embarrassing. As I said, it will me multi-chapter, though I'm not sure how many yet. I'm hoping that this will be a long-running thing. ALSO: This is important! I may actually change this story to having an original character as opposed to being a reader-insert, because OCs are better for characterization. Anyway, tell me what you think in reviews! See ya soon! ^^<strong>


	2. II

Chosen

With some struggle, the door to the Apartment Void swings open at ten-thirty at night. You had a babysitting job after work, and you're glad to have earned some extra cash. It would be good to change it up a bit with dinner tonight. She was getting a bit sick of the constant canned soup, but the bookstore's business was slow despite the warm weather finally rolling in, and you weren't needed as often. As a result, you've been buying the cheapest food you could get, which happens to be canned soup.

You drop the groceries and key on the kitchen table and, without taking your sweater off, jog the short distance between the kitchen and your bedroom. Once past the locked door, you carefully lift the thin mattress from the bed frame, holding your breath like every night. You release your usual sigh of relief through slightly pated lips when the glint of intact metal catches your eye. Still there, phew! You smile to yourself, remembering that TheBajanCanadian and the rest of Team Crafted is suppose to post a big announcement of their channel tonight. You have something to look forward to.

You know that She's out somewhere- even though all the lights are left on- probably drinking with her friends, because you didn't pass Her sitting on the couch and staring blankly at the tiny television screen (which you'd bought two years ago just to shut her whining up). So, you make a split decision to make the risk of taking the laptop out. She likely won't be home until the early hours of the morning, and you'd like some sleep tonight, so you might as well do some mining sooner rather than later. Wearing your rare crazy grin, you let the mattress drop again over the laptop and go out the door, doing a slight twirl and making your unzipped hoodie fly up like a dress.

You quickly wash and bread the chicken cutlets you bought at the supermarket earlier, going through the motions with a skip in your step. Today had been decent, and you'd even managed to add a few dollars to your leisure funds, which meant that you were one step closer to some new clothes and a mouse for your laptop. A mouse will make it easier to use, considering the track-pad is overly worn-out. You leave your plain black hoodie on because it's been cold since the thermostat broke, and there's just no time to get it fixed.

Once dinner is all prepared, you eat quickly and put the leftovers in the refrigerator for Her for when she comes home. Then, you dance quickly back to your bedroom on your tiptoes, through the open door, and back to your laptop's hiding place. A giggle escapes your mouth, which is twisted up into a grin that rarely graces your features. You haven't taken your laptop out in a while, but for some reason, you feel as though tonight it will be safe to. You lift the mattress, half expecting something to have gone wrong with the computer. Luckily, it is still perfectly intact and so you gingerly pick it up from the bed frame and carry it out to the kitchen.

Carefully setting down the laptop on the splintery wood of the kitchen table, you bound over to the freezer and dig out a carton of chocolate ice cream. Probably months old, but ice cream is ice cream, right? Grinning, you slide into a chair at the table and enter in the password for your computer. Your fingers automatically know what to do once you're logged on: over to the 'Internet" icon, , and TheBajanCanadian's channel. You laugh out loud at his humor and how simply adorable he is, and eat the ice cream straight out of the carton. You're enjoying yourself to full extent.

Next, you check the Team Crafted channel to see what the exciting news is. You've been thinking all day about this all day; the possibilities are endless. You run some through your head while the video loads on the building's terrible WiFi. When it finally plays, you sit back, holding your ice cream, and watch it like it's a big screen movie.

The little laptop screen reveals the seven men you know and love so well, and you smile throughout the whole thing, especially when they struggle to get the main point across. They keep getting off-topic, and it's the cutest thing ever.

When they finally proclaim the news, your [eye color] eyes grow wide, and your soft lips part slightly. You draw in a breath, you're system filling with the excitement and slight shock of what they've just told you.

"We're holding a contest!"

"Whoever wins, gets to come to _our_ awesome house out here and hang with us for the week!"

"And even have the chance to go big in LA!"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Yay! Some more of this. Thanks to the two lovely people who reviewed that prologue to this little thing. I apologize, the first couple of chapters are gonna suck <strong>**cause, I mean, we need a reason for the plot! :O I know, right!? Aaaanywho, PLEASE gimme feedback for this, I want constructive criticism! I'm aware that it needs some work so TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! See ya soon! ^^**


	3. III

Chosen

"How do you not understand?" Angel asks, in disbelief.

"How do you not understand that I don't understand?" Snaps Crystal, her best friend from work.

Angel groans loudly and moves aside a few books to bet a better look at her. "Look. This contest could change my life. I could _get_ a life." Her shiny, jet-black hair falls over her bony shoulders as she jerks forward on the work "get."

Crystal scoffs. "A life of what? Playing video games?" She snorts.

"Yes! It's the only thing I'm good at! And unlike you, Little Miss Perfect, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be stuck in this place," she kick the bookshelf that they're talking through, "_forever_, supporting _Her_."

Crystal just rolls her eyes and continues stacking books. "You're good at drawing. Pursue that."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Angel retorts, rolling hers. This is not the first time this conversation has started.

"Go to art school."

"With what money?"

"Try for a scholarship," she replies shortly. Angel can hear her losing patience.

"I'm not _that_ good," she mutters, quietly following Crystal around the bookshelf until they're in front of each other.

"If you would work at it, instead of sitting in front of that damn computer screen all day—"

"Night. All night."

"—Then maybe you could go places!"

"Not happening."

She lets out a frustrated scream muffled through pursed lips. "You are IMPOSIBLE."

Angel raises your eyebrows at her, which is her makeshift smile. "You love me."

Crystal responds with an epic stare down before busting into giggles. Angel quickly looks down at her feet shyly, as she would like to laugh along. But her smile doesn't like the daylight. Crystal pulls her into a hug, which causes the latter to stiffen, and Crystal sighs. "I just don't see what the big deal about this whole contest is."

"I told you," Angel says quietly when she is released. "They said I could become famous online. What if I win this competition? I could get my money from YouTube. Move into my own place." Angel nudges her slightly. "Maybe sell some drawings." She knows Crystal will like that last one. For some reason, she's always wanted Angel to pursue her small art talents as a career. Crystal sighs again.

"I guess so. Just… don't get your hopes up and then your heart broken, okay?" She mutters. Angel's eyes light up.

"You're… you're okay with me doing this?" she asks in disbelief. Crystal"s face scrunches up as though she dislikes the idea, and Angel know that's a yes, so she throws her arms around her blonde best friend and let out a soft "Yay!" And while Angel's head is over Crystal's shoulder and she can't see Angel's face, the girl with the jet-black hair breaks her restraints and lets her mouth take the shape of the twisted up smile that she feel inside.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: WOW I hate this chapter. So, I took your advice, and replaced you guys with an original character. I feel totally ridiculous changing format within, like, two chapters of the story. But I listen my lovelies! Which leads my to my next thing: THANK YOU! I love reviews. Keep them coming, tell your <strong>**friends!  
><strong>**I sincerely apologize for the hideous chapter, but I need fillers and characters until we get to the real plot. This one is kind of confusing because I already had it written before I made the decision to change. I literally just went back and changed all the "you's" to "she's." How embarrassing. If you're confused at all, please tell me and I'll be happy to explain anything!  
><strong>**So, I'm using this OC called Angelina "Angel" Demos. I wrote this chapter as though I've been writing with her for the past two. I have a full profile of her, and if anyone wants me to send it to you, just say the word! I'll do my best to characterize her. And I'll eventually go back and change the last two chapters.  
>Again, thank you so much for the reviews, and give me more! I want to know what you think as want! :D Stay put for more chapters on the way. :3 Happy snow day! See ya soon! ^^<strong>


	4. IV

Chosen

It's kind of difficult to explain why Crystal's opinion on the situation matters so much to Angel. Even though Crystal's almost a full year younger, she's like a big sister. A big sister who would act as a mother, and who would always be there. Crystal has taken the role of a guardian that Angel goes to for advice and permission in various situations.

So, naturally, after Crystal's been convinced that the Team Crafted contest is a good idea, Angel immediately starts preparing.

The rules of the contest are simple: to enter, send any member of Team Crafted an email verifying your entry; anyone could enter. Then, for the contest itself, contestants will send in a creative, homemade film telling the team why you should be famous. Your video would be judged on creativity and reasoning, and the winners would get to spend time with Team Crafted and have large amounts of help getting Internet-famous.

Crystal is there to help with the filmmaking. The video is due in exactly two month, and the two girls have decided that if they are going to win this, it has to be perfection.

Now the digital clock on the microwave in Crystal's apartment is coming threateningly close to one thirty AM on a Friday night, and the girls still haven't come to an agreement on what to do for the video. Numerous opened bags of chips with half of the contents spilled out from where the plastic separates litter the kitchen, along with empty soda cans and countless crumbled-up papers cast aside to the tiled floor. The greenish glow of the clock numbers is part of the very little doing to illuminate the room.

"Just do the goddamned drawings," growls Crystal after a particularly long period on frustrated silence. By now, the words have lost their meanings, because they had been repeated so much. She wants Angel to do a drawing animation using fancy markers, but isn't that cliché? Plus, Angel isn't THAT good. So, she continues the cycle by ignoring Crystal's demands, as she's been doing all night.

Angel finish off the last sip of her soda can, crushes it in her slender fingers, and tosses it aside amidst the multiple others. She look tiredly at the worn pencil resting atop a dwindling stack of loose leaf that they've been using to jot down ideas.

"I still like the Puzzle Idea," Angel says thickly, as though a dense coat of fog is preventing her speech. The Puzzle Idea is something that came to her mind randomly about an hour ago, when spirits had still been boisterous. It consisted of a message to Team Crafted through puzzle pieces being connected in time lapse. However, Crystal pointed out that it would be difficult to find a puzzle in a toy store that specifically described reasons for wanting to be with a famous group of YouTubers.

Crystal's already menacing scowl is on the verge becoming even more terrifying, when suddenly, her face lights up.

"I've got it!" She cries. "A compromise!" Angel raises an eyebrow sluggishly at her, unfazed by the sudden animation. "We can _do_ the Puzzle Idea, but _you_ have to draw the designs, transfer them through a printer shop or something onto an actual puzzle with pieces and stuff, and then assemble them in time-lapse for the video!"

Angel hesitates a moment, then scoffs, and reaches for another can of 7Up. She forbids herself from drinking alcohol, in fear of turning out like her mother (despite the fact that you probably won't do anything with your life anyway), and Crystal, being the amazing friend she is, doesn't drink around her. As Angel cracks open the can with a fizzling sound, she says, "That's pretty much the same thing as drawing the animation, just differently. It's stupid."

Crystal's nostrils suddenly flare, and she stands up abruptly from the chair.

"_Fine_. If you're going to be this ridiculously against doing any work for this, I'm not helping you! Good luck with your stupid contest." Then she storms out the door of her own apartment, like big puffy storm cloud set on reeking havoc. Angel quickly arises after her, cursing under her breath. She hates seeing Crystal upset, especially when she's the cause. Crystal's gray eyes become abyss-like, and she's scary. Exactly like the Apartment Void at night: unacceptable.

"Chris!" Angel calls, flinging herself clumsily out the door after her. "Yo, wait up!" She fly down the building's echoing staircase, following Crystal's footsteps, and grabs her shoulder just as the latter is fiddling with the building's door into the open world. "I'm sorry," Angel pants. "I—I think it's a great idea! The New and Improved Puzzle Idea!" She then make a split decision. It's difficult for a moment, an all of her built-up instincts scream against it, but this is a special occasion. Angel tries for a smile. The left side of her thin mouth curves all the way up, while the right side hardly moves. She feels like some kind of wolverine or something, but Crystal has calmed down, at least. She's gawking at Angel. Angel never smiles.

"Ang…" she begins, sounding choked up. Then without another word, she pulls her best friend into a hug, and Angel allows herself to melt into her warmth. Crystal knows exactly how hard it is for Angel to smile in public, even if it _is_ only in front of her best friend.

Soon, the two girls are going back up the empty stairs to Crystal's living space, with Crystal giggling and Angel raising her eyebrows as a proxy. And they work on the New and Improved Puzzle Idea.

**Author's Note: This is another chapter where I just went back and changed it all to make it OC rather than reader-insert. I once again apologize for all the filler chapters, and possible confusion. Hopefully there won't be too much more of it. Any-who, review away, my lovelies! Thank you for the support! I love to hear what you have to say. See ya soon! ^^**


	5. V

Chosen

Angel runs a pale, dainty hand through her tangled black hair. She hovers over the threatening blank piece of paper, elbows planted firmly on either side of it, rear end perched stiffly on the edge of the hard wooden chair. She still wears the fleece pajama bottoms and too-tight tank top that she'd been sleeping in eighteen hours before, and her normally vibrant green eyes are cloaked in a fog of weariness and the inability to sleep combined.

It's been a few days since Angel and Crystal last worked on the New and Improved Puzzle Idea. The general design and script is finished, and now all Angel has to do was draw out her story so that Crystal could transfer it to a puzzle in the printer shop. The problem? Sure, they'd spent hours discussing and making notes on what Angel would draw, but… _she didn't know where to start._

And as if the intimidating project that she's yet to start wasn't stressful enough (trust Angel, she's been sitting here for almost two hours after a long time of stressful procrastination from 7 AM), Angel has fifty million other things to worry about. For example, her mother's been sick with the flu for three days now, and she's starting to get whiny about not being able to leave the Apartment Void. Plus, the bookshop's business has been dangerously low the past few weeks, so Angel has to worry about getting minimal pay. _Not to mention_ rent is due in a week, and Angel is seriously struggling to meet the paying requirement.

Yes, times have been better for Angel in this little life of hers. Luckily, though, she has Team Crafted to help her escape. The contest ends in a month, which presses her for time. But Angel likes it, for some reason. It gives her something else to worry about, other than money and all that crap.

Angel removes her fingers from her hair and leans back in her chair, evilly eyeing her piece of paper, then the pencil that hasn't been touched. She then picks up the piece of loose-leaf paper, which the notes of what to draw are written on. She sighs as closure of this wasted period of time and closes her tired green eyes before placing the loose-leaf down and rising shakily. Surprised at her shakiness, Angel realizes that it's hunger. She's been up for eighteen hours and she hasn't eaten once in all that time. Yet she doesn't seem hungry, she could probably hold off for a little while longer…

Her stomach tells her otherwise.

At ten-past-one in the morning, Angel finally decides that not eating or sleeping for eighteen hours in very much unhealthy. She walks, bare feet silent against the cheap tiles, a few feet from the kitchen table to the refrigerator. The refrigerator, however, offers nothing to eat and proves empty aside from a most-likely spoiled carton of milk. She shuts her eyes and patiently exhales a deep breath, slowly shutting the treacherous fridge.

Angel, now in her little bedroom, searches for a clean shirt to wear. None. She exhales some more and looks for socks. None.

At this point, Angel can easily say that she's frustrated with everything.

After a long night— she had to wear her worn boots without socks; she had to go out to buy food for herself in the crisp March air in her pajamas; she had to hold herself steady so she wouldn't pass out from lack of food at the cashier; she had to care for her influenza-infested mother while getting screamed at—Angel decides as she settles under the blankets in front of her precious laptop that it had _not_ been a fun day. She falls asleep after Mitch's first video, heart beating unsteadily.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Sorry for the short, sucky chapter. QAQ I miss your reviews, guise! DX I haven't gotten any, so I really procrastinated with updating. I wanna know what I can do to make this story better! ;-; Don't leave me again, okay?<strong>

**Anyway, I had this... idea. For a fan fiction. I think it's pretty clear by now that Mitch is my favorite is TC, and there was a short period of time where I shipped Merome. I thought of this idea for crack song-fic of the two of them to F.U.N.'s We Are Young, in which Mitch gets drunk and Jerome has to drag him home. XDTell me what you think of this and that in reviews! See ya soon (hopefully)! ^^**


	6. VI

Chosen

Angel shakily brings a ring of grain up to her lips. Her hand is shaking so much that the cereal misses her mouth twice. She parts her thin lips ever so slightly and crosses her green eyes so that she can see the Cheerio an inch from her mouth. A sudden burst from Crystal makes her jump, and the Cheerio flies out of her hands onto Crystal's carpeted bedroom floor.

"_Just eat it already!_" She shouted. The two girls look at the piece of cereal now sitting in between the fibers of the fluffy teal carpet. Crystal pretends to be angry while Angel laughs, but the face she's making—somewhere between frustration and trying not to laugh—just makes Angel laugh harder.

"I don't know _why_ you won't just eat the damn cereal, it'll help the creative juices!" Crystal manages around confined giggles.

Angel throws her head back and laughs openly; harder than before. She's been doing that a lot more often with Crystal; this contest seems to be bringing them closer together. Crystal absolutely loves seeing Angel smile so much.

"_Creative juices?_" Angel questions through her hiccupping laughter and series of snorts. Angel would still be lying if she said that she _liked_ her smile and laughter, but at least she's not so embarrassed in front of her best friend now.

"Yes!" Crystal cries, giving in to hysterical laughter and flopping onto her back on the plush carpet.

The two girls are sitting on the floor of Crystal's apartment's bedroom, finishing up the last touches of their contest entry. As soon as Angel finishes drawing this, all they have to do is put it on a puzzle, assemble it, and send it in. The two girls are beyond excited, and it's been making them closer than ever.

Right now though, Crystal is set on making Angel eat something, because she hasn't since yesterday. However, the darker-haired girl in some way has denied just about every assorted cereal that Crystal has offered. Her ridiculous ways of pushing the cereals away usually result in hysterical giggle fits, much to Crystal's joy.

Once they've calmed down after laughing at mostly nothing, Angel groans and sits up back into a sitting position. From there, she flops onto her stomach and picks up the forgotten pencil next to the paper that contains cute, cartoony drawings depicting Angel's late nights with Team Crafted. Of course, she had to include fantasies of her and Mitch smooching away in the candlelight—subtly, of course. Crystal had made fun of her for that to no end previously in the past two months.

Angel's little world's routine now has an extra step—instead of going home late at night to fish out her hidden laptop, she keeps it at Crystal's, and spends most nights there. She checks on her mother in the mornings, and makes her food then that she can freeze and eat when she wants.

Another thing that's changing—Angel's been getting Crystal pretty into Minecraft. Not purposely, of course, but Crystal's been looking over Angel's shoulder while she plays. She gets pretty into it, learning the game, yelling for her to watch out for mobs. Angel's just waiting patiently for the day when Crystal decides to take the controls and play for herself.

For now, though, Angel has to deal with Frosted Flakes being sprinkled into her tangled black hair.

"Eat the cereal."

"No."

Angel smiles.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> **Yay! Only, like, a few more fillers left! *3* I'm loving all the support I'm getting, guys, thank you so much. I really don't have much of an excuse as to why it took me so long to upload this one, besides the fact that I had a lot of tests. But now it's break! :D Hopefully I'll update at least once more this week. And thanks for feedback on the Merome idea. I'll probably start working on that soon. Keep the reviews coming, guys! See ya soon! ^^**


	7. VII

Chosen

"Time!?" calls Crystal from the kitchen. Angel can hear her bustling around, bowls clinking and bare feet pattering against cool tiles. Angel pops a piece of buttery popcorn in her mouth as her green eyes flick to the clock in the corner of the computer screen.

"Seven fifty-five," Angel calls back. "Five minutes till show time!"

Crystal saunters back into the room at seven fifty-eight PM, elegant golden hair flowing behind her back, one bowl of stuffed to the brim with chocolate ice cream in each hand. Grinning crazily, she places one bowl in front of Angel, and slides to the teal carpeted floor with the other in her lap.

Angel is bouncing eagerly up and down in her spot on the floor, clutching a large stuffed dog that was been found on Crystal's bed. She's having trouble steadying her breathing, and she's subconsciously almost finished the popcorn bowl already in an attempt to calm her nerves. No such luck, of course. Such results would not be shown until eight PM, when the contest results are shown. Angel's heart doesn't seem to be working at a healthy rate at this time.

At seven fifty-nine, Crystal shoots Angel a dazzling, encouraging smile with plump pink lips and soft gray eyes. Angel looks back, locking her quivering forest-greed stare with Crystal's stormy gray one. She rocks back in forth to soothe her nerves, but her efforts are fruitless. She thinks she may be sick—and neither bowls of ice cream have even been touched yet. This is the moment of truth; she's been waiting months for this. So many all-nighters, so many sacrifices, arguments, fights, laughs, tears, worry, and agonizing artists' block have all lead up to this moment.

Angel finds the slightest bit of comfort when Crystal gives the tiniest of nods. A silent way of telling her that no matter what happens, everything would be okay, and she'd be there. A wordless comforting that's silent proof of the girls' closer-than-ever relationship.

Angel tears her gaze from Crystal's and parts her lips, taking a deep intake of breath. Her wide orbs move hastily to the tiny digital clock in the corner of the screen, just as the numbers flick from seven fifty-nine to eight o'clock. Eight o'clock here in New York… five o'clock there in Los Angeles, California. Five o'clock means Team Crafted is posting the contest results. The moment of truth.

Angel drags a shaking, slender finger along the worn out track pad, bringing the arrow on the screen closer to the "refresh page" button. Crystal watches intently as Angel presses the button, and the new material on the page slowly begins to unfold on the pixel-ey screen. When the laptop is finished refreshing after seven agonizingly long seconds, Angel's breath hitches when Team Crafted's more recent video shows up on the screen. Angel impulsively presses it. Before the girls even realize what's happing, Team Crafted appears on the computer screen, all seven of them sprawled along a large couch. Jason and Ian sat on the floor.

While Angel's eyes widen and she begins breathing heavily to prevent from shrieking aloud, Crystal watches curiously as the members of Team Crafted go through their usual introductions one by one. This isn't the first time Crystal's seen a Team Crafted video, but it's for certain the first time she's been intrigued by one. She can't help but notice that when the person she assumes is Mitch—Angel's "true love"—starts talking, Angel's pale cheeks flush rosy red and her breath hitches.

By the time Team Crafted gets through a long five minutes of useless talking and silliness (Angel can't say she minds this much anyway), they finally get down to business. The two girls reposition themselves closer to the screen to hear what Adam, or SkyDoesMinecraft, has to say about the contest winner. They start by showing the runner-up winners' videos. Each time a contest entry plays that isn't Angel and Crystal's, more and more hope fills their faces. Until finally, _finally_ they get to the number one contest entry. The room is utterly silent.

"And so, without further ado," Adam begins, "the winner of the contest in this really cool girl named Angelina Demos."

"Does drawings doe," reminisces Mitch with a crazy, lustful grin.

"She did this… puzzle… like, I dunno. She put it together and just—" Jason begins.

"You shall see!" Interjects Adam, just as their faces dissolve into an all-too familiar picture to the two girls.

A cheery ring of music fills the ears of the nonplussed girls. On the screen before them is a splintery wooden table, and a pair of pale hands rapidly assembling a home-made puzzle with cartoony illustrations. The first puzzle reveals drawings of a fourteen-year-old girl with a little boy, both playing Minecraft. The next puzzle is assembled into the girl, at age fifteen, purchasing a laptop. The different puzzles continue on to show pictures of the little girl watching Team Crafted in the dark, subtly hidden fantasies of Mitch, and her ultimately "sucky life" (quote her).

When the video ends fading into black, Team Crafted reappears on the screen to give some last thanks and congratulations, with promises of emails with more information to the winner. When the video ends, the room is completely silent. Green eyes are wide, welling up with tears and shock. Gray ones fill with pure happiness and pride.

Angel has won. She's going to LA to be with Team Crafted.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: AUGH. THIS CHAPTER. Gosh, I was so determined to work so hard on it... I was like, "<strong>**brah, yous all gonna _love_ dis..."  
>BUT THEN I GOT LAZY AND F***ED THE ENDING. OOPS.<br>But really, guise. THANK YOUUUUU for the reviews! I'm a review whore... they're my drugs. ^-^ ANYWHO, HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE _FINAL FILLER CHAPTER!_ That's right, from here on out, you'll get complete TC and Angel X Mitch fluff! OUO So, thank you, review, and sorry for spastic AN, I'm high on sugar right now. See ya soon! ^^**


	8. VIII

Chosen

Angel scoffs irritably and stumbles forward slightly, catching her balance before tumbling to the dirty ground. She glowers after the man who was rushing by and caused her to stumble. Crystal places a reassuring hand on Angel's arm as the dark-haired girl readjusts her ratty backpack on her shoulder with an annoyed expression. Crystal tries for a smile with jazz-hands, and Angel's face relaxes into a tiny smile that won't become twisted and wild. The two girls, who were previously facing each other, begin to walk through the airport once more.

They pass all sorts of happy reunions, sad goodbyes, ad sighs of relief to be home. By the time they reach Angel's terminal, the girl are even more silent than before. It's hard to talk when there's so much to say. They sit perched and silent in the cushiony red chairs, not meeting each other's eyes, tensions high.

At last, a robotic lady's voice echoes through the crowded airport, giving the information for the flight leaving New York for LA. It is now safe to board. Angel, who was sitting with her knees turned inward, black and green sweatshirt hanging off her shoulder unzipped, and bag on the floor against her too-small converse, stands up slowly. Crystal, on the other hand, was sitting perched on the very edge of the seat to the point where she looked like she looked like he could fall off. She shot to her feet in a matter of seconds. Angel slowly shifted her eyes to Crystal's feet. She could feel the intense gray gaze on her. She shyly lifts her own eyes with some effort and finally, finally meets Crystal's. The two girls wordlessly stare at each other before Angel reaches out her slender arms and pulls Crystal into a hug. Crystal stand for a moment, shocked, before hugging back tenderly.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispers. Angel nods to acknowledge and closes her eyes, breathing in Crystal's perfumed aroma for the last time in hopefully-not-too-long. The email said she'd been staying out there for ten days, but who knows what's going to happen? What if she _does_ become Internet-famous? Surely, she'd move back to New York to take care of her mother and be with Crystal… right?

Angel shakes her mind of the thought and finally pulls back enough to look at her friend. She can't remember ever being this close to anyone in her entire life. She wasn't even that close with Crystal, her first _real_ friend, until recently. And she'd never been very open at all until two months ago, either.

Crystal shoots Angel a dazzling smile that drags the darker haired girl back to the present.

"Have fun, Ang. But not too much, okay?" she raises her thin eyebrows into a suggestive arch. Angel stifles a giggle and gives a little sniffle instead. She can't stand to imagine being away from Crystal for longer than a day or two. Yet here they are, saying goodbye for ten whole days. Possibly even more. Angel's dainty little face crumbles lightly, scrunching into a pout. "Go woo that Canadian boy." A blush creeps upon Angel's face.

"Mitch." Crystal chuckles at her friend's defensiveness.

"Okay. Make Mitch fall in love with you." She grins wildly and Angel's blushing. Then her face gets serious. "You sure you'll be okay on your own? Don't forget, you can call me anytime—"

Angel cuts her off with a breathy grunt of disapproval. "Of _course_ I'll be okay. Honestly, what's going to happen to me?" Crystal sighs in defeat, too lazy to explain the dangers of the world to her friend, but then comes back around with a sly little smile. Exasperation writes itself all over Angel's face once more. Here comes the checklist.

"Don't forget to wash the clothes I packed for you."

Groan.

"Don't forget to dress to impress on dinner nights."

Louder groan.

"Don't forget to eat like a normal person so you don't scare anyone—but not so much that your body will reject anything."

Look of disgust.

"Don't forget about the underwear we bought—"

Flushed face and _shush__**. **_

Crystal continues with a smug grin. "Don't forget to call me when you get to the hotel. Do you know the name of it yet?"

Relieved to be off the embarrassing topic of her undergarments and the embarrassment that had gone along with _that_ shopping trip, Angel shakes her head. "They never responded to my email." Crystal, despite the slight tint of worry in her stormy eyes, waves her hand dismissively.

"No biggy—they'll probably tell you when they meat you at the airport when you land." Angel nods convincingly.

"Yeah. I'll call often. And if I need anything, I know you'll be there."

Crystal nods, shifting her wait. There's a brief moment of silence between the girls before the robotic lady's voice tells the airport that Angel's flight will be departing shortly. Crystal looks up from the floor and into Angel's starling green orbs.

"See you soon, Ang," she says, pulling her friend into a final hug.

"Love ya, Chris," Angel says into a wave of blonde hair. After a few comforting seconds in each other's arms, it's time to leave Crystal's warmth and pull away. Angel smiles lazily once more at her friend, avoiding showing her teeth, and pivots on her heel. With a final wave to her friend in front of the entrance to the plane, Angel enters her journey to LA.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: PHEW! Why did this take so long to update? (*Evilly glares at play rehearsals*) Happy March, everyone! *Nervous laughter* Hah, guys I totally lied about filler chapters. THIS is the last one. In the next chapter, Team Crafted will FIIIINALLY be introduced! Woo! As usually, I thank you <strong>**_immensely _for all of the fabulous support you've given me. Stayed tuned for more chapters on the way- hopefully quicker! See ya soon! ^^**


	9. IX

Chosen

Angel stretches her arms high above her head as people file past her. She feels the satisfying release of finally being able to stand and stretch herself out in the open air, on solid ground again. She stands just outside of where she exited the plane, eyes scanning the California airport. She's trying so hard not to break into her wild smile; her face is almost equally twisted to how it would be if she were actually grinning. She's really here. In California. It's unreal.

The first thing Angel does is stick a hand into her hoodie's pocket. There, she finds the little flip phone Crystal bought for her just after learning of their ten-day separation (despite the many protests). She opens it and does the only thing she knows how to on it (it's her first phone): she presses the "one" key, where Crystal's name comes up on speed dial. Angel's thumb presses down on the "call" button, and she places the phone to her ear.

"WHERE ARE YOU?" She hears Crystal's voice scream after half of a ring. Angel laughs and does a little dance, too happy to care whom sees or gives her a funny look.

"Cali, baby!" she says back, her voice naturally quieter. Crystal screams, and Angel can practically see her jumping and squealing in her bedroom. Beaming crookedly, Angel's eyes scan the airport looking for Mitch, Jerome, Adam, and Tyler—the members of Team Crafted supposed to pick her up. Crystal is blabbering on the other line about how Angel had better not come back as a sun-kissed ditzy blonde. The moment is perfect.

Angel soon starts to wander the airport when she doesn't see anyone. She walks only a few feet before Crystal shrieks again on the other line. Angel winces through her grin, though it's not ill humored at all.

"ARE YOU WITH MICTH?!" she shouts. "ARE YOU MAKING HIM FALL IN LOVE YET?" Angel laughs and stands on her tiptoes to see over the heads of the people crowding the airport.

"I'm looking for him," she responds playfully, drawing out the I. She's just rolling her eyes with a grin, not bothering to conceal the twistedness, when she sees them.

Standing there.

Like angels straight from heaven.

Somewhere in the back of her nonplussed mind, she realizes the irony of that thought.

She's frozen in the middle of the airport. The phone hovers just over her ear as though she can't quite figure out what to do with it. Her thin lips are parted slightly. People are clearly irritated with the sudden stop, because they keep hitting into her shoulder, so that she'd being jostled like a ragdoll.

Angel couldn't care less.

She stares.

She stares for one-hundred-and-twenty straight seconds before moving an inch—she's counting. It's the only thing she can manage. Even as Crystal is babbling on the other line, speech fading away as she realizes her friend is no longer listening.

Angel's first reaction—besides going into shock for two minutes—is to take another step (luckily).

By now, Crystal's asking if Angel's still there. Then if she's okay. Angel is in a daze, though, her only motivation to walk being the seven boys standing about thirty feet away.

After another minute or so of slow motion walking, Crystal appears to be freaking out on the other line, screaming for Angel to give any signal of being alive. Angel blinks when she's about fifteen feet away, and somehow manages to tell Crystal that she has to go, and closes the phone before her friend has a chance to protest.

Another minute or so later, Mitch seems to realize that there is a girl slowly but surely making her way over to their little group. Angel watches, now slightly more composed, as he nudges the other six boys he's standing with and gestures in her direction. They all immediately take their hands out of their pockets and straighten up, grinning at her. Angel can feel heat rushing to her face, tinting her cheeks a rosy red color. She shuffles the last bit of distance to close the seemingly massive gap between herself and the bridge to her happiness. That is, before befriending Crystal… now there are two bridges.

Despite Angel's height—she's pretty tall for a girl, standing at 5'8 without her slouch—she finds herself tilting her head back slightly to look into Mitch's eyes when she finally slows to a stop in front of them. Mitch is grinning down at her.

"Hey!" he says, with a chuckle. Everyone else also waves and gives a cheerful hello. "You Angel?"

Angel can only nod. She's standing in front of Team Crafted.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: AAUUGHHH! I am SOO sorry I haven't updated! Please dun leave me, guise!<br>My excuse is the play and schoolwork. My school performed Annie and I was in stage crew. Rehearsals practically consumed my life. But it's over now (*ugly sobs* it was my last year...) which means MORE UPDATES! :'D Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this one. It's okay, I think. Could've been better, but I rushed to finish it tonight, else it would have been another two weeks before I updated. Thank you SO much as usual, for all of he lovely support you've all given me. Maybe if I have time, I'll write that Merome fanfic in the near future. :3 Thanks again, my lovelies. Gosh, this note's a novella itself. See ya soon! ^^**


	10. X

Chosen

After some very awkward introductions and glances, Angel sits in the silent backseat of Adam's car in between Mitch and Jerome, hands between her knees. She's sitting stiff and slouched enough that you'd thing she was in a straight jacket. She can feel Mitch and Jerome exchanging uncomfortable glances over her slumped shoulders.

The last hour has pretty much gone like this:

Anyone: Angelina, right?

Angel: Uh… uh…

Not even Adam's hilarious attempts at lifting the mood made her talk, let alone smile. In fact, the only thing she's managed to get out is "It's Angel, like those little girls in white dresses and-and wings." To which Jerome responded, "we know what angels are," with an amused grin. A lot of the time walking from the airport to the car was spent with useless interrogation. She managed a couple of sputtering answers, but nothing of use to anyone. She's never mentally kicked herself so much.

Angel has honestly never thought of herself as a shy person. She's just quiet; you know, normal quiet-in-the-shadows-type person stuff. She has her own dark little thoughts, mottos. Likes the rain. Dark clothes. Doesn't smile much. She likes to think she has her own little demons—though there are obviously worse things in this screwed-up world than alcoholic mothers. She likes to be alone anyway. Doesn't need anyone's support or whatever. It's better this way. Not shy—just reclusive.

So why is talking to Team Crafted _so damn hard?_

It's not until they're on the highway for about ten minutes that someone says something. It's Adam, who's driving. Angel jumps visibly when he speaks.

"So, Ang…" Angel feels her breath hitch at his little nickname. Crystal calls her that, but this is different. It's _Adam._ "What's the name of the hotel you're staying at? We'll drop you there, and then take you out to dinner tonight at around seven. Sound good?" he says everything so fast, she almost misses what he first asks. Almost. She blinks, thinking back to Crystal, and how they both assumed the hotel was being paid for. Like everything else. Thinking—hoping, PRAYNG—she heard him wrong.

"Uh," her voice is quiet as usual, but it feels meeker in this brief moment of panic for her. "What was that?"

"Hotel. Where're we goin'?" He repeats cheerfully. Angel's stomach drops out from under her.

"U-Um… I-I thought… you guys were gonna…" she fades away.

"Everything okay…?" asks Mitch, drawing out the E.

"It's just… wasn't… wasn't the hotel included? With, you know… everything else?"

Mitch and Jerome exchange glances for, like, the millionth time. Angel can safely say she's panicking now.

"Ah… I believe we clarified that you had to make your own living arrangements…"

Angel frantically racks her brain through the memorized email containing information about her stay. As far as she remembers, they didn't mention anything at all about where she would be staying for the next ten days. Her and Crystal just assumed they'd have somewhere picked out for her already.

"I don't think the email said anything about housing…" there is a moment of silence.

"So… you don't have anywhere to go," Jerome concludes flatly. Angel nods sheepishly. Adam's driving visibly slows and they all sit in horribly awkward silence.

"I guess we'll take her back to the house, then. Until she finds a hotel or something," Ty whispers not-so-quietly to Adam from the passenger seat. The other members of the group—Quentin, Jason, and Ian—are in Quentin's car, driving behind Adam's. They slow down behind Adam and when Angel glances at the rear-view mirror, she sees confused expressions of their faced in the reflection.

When Adam and Ty are done with their whisper conversation up in front, Adam turns around and grins.

"Looks like you'll be chilling with us for awhile, then!" Slowly, the panic previously filling Angel's mind clears to make room for what Adam just said.

"Yeah," says Mitch slowly, making this work. "We definitely have space! You don't even need a hotel! Just stay with us in the house!"

"With… you? Me. With a bunch of guys?"

Jerome laughs. "It'll be fun!"

And so, Angel agrees awkwardly, everyone cheers, and Adam speeds off to Angel new temporary home with the guys.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: YAY TEAM CRAFTED. Guys, they're falling apart! QAQ But I'm continuing this as though they're all still together, okay? TUT<br>I actually kind of like this chapter! XD It's weird cause I went back and edited it, like, twenty times so a lot of it might not make sense... oops. I hope you all liked the characterization I (****forcibly) snuck in there. OUO As usual, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to everyone who reviews and such! Hope you enjoyed this, and I hope TC wasn't TOO out of character. XD Don't forget to review! See ya soon! ^^**


	11. XI

Chosen

Later that night, after being in the most awe-stuck state of her life from the tour of her dream house, Angel sits on the edge of a large, fluffy bed with a flowery comforter. Her backpack and suitcase rest on the floor nearby, and she sits the same way she did in the airport before leaving: slouched, knees turned in, ratty hoodie hanging off her shoulders. She's just gotten off the phone with Crystal, who admitted to logging on to Angel's Minecraft account via her own computer, much to Angel's excitement. This confession, or course, was made after a five-minute-long screaming fest that made Angel cringe.

Angel is sitting alone mainly because of how overwhelmed she is with everything from arriving in LA, to not having a hotel, Team Crafted's offer (which the other members also eagerly agreed to), and just the fact that she's _sitting in Team Crafted's guest bedroom._ Her head is rather foggy. She vaguely wonders if this is what it's like to be drunk, and if it is, she realized that she understands why her mother loves alcohol so much. She smiles darkly to herself. She would have punched anyone else who said that aloud.

Angel's eyes eventually wander over to a nicely finished wooden desk tucked in the corner of the room. A small smile plays on her lips; Angel has never owned a desk before. Crystal doesn't have one either, so Angel's really never sat at one. Not that it's a life dream or anything, but she's always liked the idea of sitting at a desk and looking professional. Slowly, teasingly, she stands and absently-mindedly picks up her backpack, taking it to the desk with her. She places a hand on the squishy chair on wheels and walks slowly around the desk, smile slowly spreading. It's almost sexy, the way she runs her pale hands along the chair and then the desk. She giggles and slowly pulls the chair out, slowly sliding into it. She sits still and silent for a few moments, grinning and staring down at the finely finished wood.

Finally, the moment is over, and Angel bends over with a soft grunt to reach into her backpack. She unzips it halfway, then stops where the zipper's broken. Ugh. Charity donations are a joke. She pulls out her laptop, which is amidst the cell phone from Crystal, an old MP3 player from the company she used to get donations from, cheap earbuds she bought herself a while ago, two of books she plans to read at night, and her sketchbook and pencils. She makes a point to ignore the last one. Angel waits patiently while the slow laptop start up, and she logs on to Minecraft. She soon finds herself playing Hunger Games, already kicking butt with an iron sword and gold—sorry, budder—armor. She gets so into it, killing people left and right and leaning over the desk, she completely forgets where she is until there's a knock on the door. _Damn,_ she thinks, pulling away. _Death Match was about to start. _She stands and stretches and then realizes again where she is. Her eyes immediately widen and she looks around rapidly. For what, she doesn't know. Maybe something to hide in. What if that's Mitch? She's contemplating pretending to be asleep when there's another knock and sure, enough, Mitch's voice sounds muffled through the door.

"Yo… Angel?"

Angel bites her lip and shakily steps over her backpack to get to the door. She opens it tentatively and stares blankly at Mitch with her usual monotone expression. He shifts uncomfortably, and she wonders if he sees her hands trembling. She doesn't dare open her mouth—what ever she says with come out quivering.

We he sees that she's not going to greet him he nods slowly.

"Uh… hi. We're going out to eat now. Assuming you'd, uh, like to come… any place you'd like to go?" He flashes her a smile and she can't tell if it's forced or not.

"Not really," she says quietly. Was she supposed to have a preferred restaurant picked out or something? She's never even eaten at a restaurant since, like, the third grade or something. She doesn't know the name of a single one.

"Really?" Angel nods. "Not one?" A microscopic smile plays on her lips and she nods again. He breaks into a genuine smile at hers and raises his eyebrows. "Are you _sure_?"

"I'm sure I'm sure," she says quietly, smiling a bit more and rolling her eyes. She's making a huge effort not to show her teeth. The fact that Mitch seems to be trying to cheer her up is enough to make her melt with happiness.

"Alright. Then we shall consult the guys! Maybe you could tell us a thing or two about yourself?" He says, offering a gentle smile. She can't believe how easy talking to him is. She loves it. She smiles closed-mouthed and sheepishly and nods at him. He grins down at her, his soft brown eyes finding a lock on her vibrant green ones. They hold each other's gaze in a moment where nothing else matters and Angel's heart pounds so hard she's positive the whole house can hear.

"Then let's go," she says quietly.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Poop on me, guys. Poop on me. I'm a lazyass. Please dun hate me. I still lav you, I just love sitting on my ass almost as <strong>**much. But, well, here I am... updating on a Monday... ^^" Gods. Poop on me. I'm such a blah. I don't eve know what to say about this chapter. It kinda sucks, kinda doesn't. You know the drill, critique me and love me in reviews cause I love love love you all to infinity and beyond. I will try to update as much as possible over the break! Love you all. See ya soon. ^^"**


	12. XII

Chosen

Angel has never tried so hard in her life not to show her wolfish grin. She looks incredibly stupid, her thin lips pressed together so hard they seem to be turning white.

Restaurants are fun.

The guys are making her laugh so hard. She keeps tucking her chin into her neck and leaning forward, shaking with silent laughter. Between stupid stories, lame jokes, and the absolutely insane amount of food they ordered in ration to Angel's tiny order of kids' chicken fingers, she can hardly catch her breath.

After another violent round of silent laughter after Adam and Ian's story about a fan asking to have her stomach signed with a Sharpie, Mitch leans close to her, grinning.

"Are you sure that's all you're going to eat?" he says, pointing to a half-eaten chicken finger and a few missing fries. Angel takes a moment to compose herself before answering, because if she opens up her mouth she'll break into a massive, wild grin.

"I'm not hungry. Really."

Mitch scoffs. "Then at least have a beer or something. It'll help ya loosen up!"

Angel's eye twitches and her suppressed smile drops slightly. "I don't drink."

Adam and Mitch raise their eyebrows at each other. Ian has burst out laughing at something Quentin is saying. It's completely unreal, sitting around a table at Apple Bee's with them. Angel can't get used to it, despite how natural they're acting towards her. Like old, lifetime friends.

"Tell us something about yourself, Angelina," says Ty, his voice quiet. Angel's always had a soft spot for him, due to his shyness. She thinks it's cute. Plus, he calls her Angelina instead of Angel or Ang, which would probably annoy the hell out of her if it were anyone else. But it's not anyone else, and it's simply adorable when Ty does it.

"Ahhh," Angel wracks her brain half heartedly, "there's not much to tell," she says quietly, with a teeny, close-mouthed smile.

"C'mon, tell us anything!" Jason calls. "Favorite song, food, animal, color—"

"Favorite color had better be BUDDER," says Adam with a grin.

"I'm a pretty boring person," Angel says with another small, soft smile.

Jerome makes an exasperated noise. "Just answer those questions. Just make us happy, Angel, dammit!" He finishes with a smile.

"Ahh, okay…" Angel is suppressing a smile again. "Song? Um… I guess it'd have to be So What by Pink. Food…" she blushes slightly, "I don't like food all that much." Their mouths drop, but she continues quickly before they can yell at her. "I guess chocolate. Animal, um… definitely a giraffe," she says with a tiny smile.

"Why giraffe?" asks Quentin with genuine curiosity.

Angel suppresses yet another grin, thinking of a funny joke she has with Crystal about giraffes. Then she gets sad. She misses Crystal. She can't remember a time when she ever missed someone. She doesn't like it. Crystal would know how to entertain the guys with her dashing good looks and witty sense of humor and interesting life at the Fashion Institute of Technology. Angel sighs and forces herself back to reality.

"Long story. Favorite color is budder, of course. If that's counted as a color."

"Of course it's a color!" Adam says defensively. Angel presses her lips together for obvious reasons.

After everyone nods in satisfactory and thanks her for finally revealing some information, Mitch speaks up again. "So you're from New York?"

Angel nods. There's silence, and she realize she's supposed to add to this. But what is she supposed to say? I live in a cheap apartment with my alcoholic mother and I'm barely able to pay rent for us and I only have one friend? Nope. But the silence has to be filled. It's getting awkward.

"I, uh, live with my mom," she mumbles, staring at the plate. The guys shift uncomfortably, realizing home is a sensitive topic. They don't know the half of it.

"Uh… got a job?" asks Ty. "College?"

Angel shifts. "I work at a- at a bookstore." She says nothing about college.

Mitch and Jerome exchange glances. Another touchy topic.

"You like books?" Adam changes the subject smoothly, saving Angel. She breathes a sigh a relief and even shoots Adam a tiny secret smile as thanks. He nods, and soon everyone is laughing and making jokes gain.

Angel feels content, and her heart is bursting with joy. The only thing missing on this night is Crystal.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Oof. Hey guys. It's been a while ^^" Thank you so much to everyone who's still following this and still has hope for it. I truly love you3. I guess I've been busy, but that's really not much of an excuse. I've just had such writer's block, and I've been a little bored with MineCraft YouTube. I lack inspiration. Support and reviews would be lovely motivation! :D Thanks again to those of you reading this. I can't promise quicker updates just yet, a huge load of testing and personal stuff should be headed my way real soon. I'll try, I really will. Just hang in there, okay? I'll get around to new chapters, I <strong>**promise! I love you all forever and always. Thanks again. ;* XOXO, and See ya soon! ^^**


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